Giving the despair about not qualifying for medical help a place

I recently wrote about my trip to a local German hospital [1] and the outright refusal to have the abdominal symptoms examined on account of my intersex condition, or 'rare disease', as it's apparently designated in Germany. A few days later I also recorded this video about it:

Briefly, at this point the symptoms include the swollen abdomen as its most prominent feature, accompanied by constant discomfort to pulsating pain, the latter mostly when lying in bed. The source of the pain appears to be centralised in the area where the uterus would be, just below the navel. Previously, gently pushing on this area would cause strong discomfort and the feeling of my breathing stopping for a moment. Currently the same action causes sharp waves of nauseating pain throughout my abdomen. In addition, there's constant discomfort to pain in the perineum as well.

Understandably, dealing with chronic pain like this is costing a lot of energy. The uncertainty about the underlying cause(s) and what it may develop into take most of the energy that is still left after that, and further ruins my sleep. Are these symptoms benign? Are they indicative of something horrible, like cancer? I can only speculate without medical data to clarify things.

At this point I still have my GP who is willing to help me, and I'm fairly confident that I can at least get an ultrasound with about a month. That's still a month to bridge in low-power mode, however, so it better get some results at least.

Just another month of trying to give hope [2] a place. What if it doesn't produce any results indicative of something wrong?


Life would be so much easier if I hadn't been born with an intersex, chimera body. Then I would have received medical help ages ago already.

Life would have been easier if I had given into the lie of being transsexual and had my genitals chopped up. I just wouldn't have been able to live with myself in that case.


What's more important, being able to live with yourself, or being able to live with society?


Maya


[1] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2020/02/so-i-got-denied-medical-care-because-of.html
[2] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2020/02/hope-versus-happiness.html

Hope versus happiness

The concept of 'hope' is usually postulated as something positive, as a driving, positive emotion or feeling that keeps one going in times of adversity. Yet, as I have on many occasions found, 'hope' is generally the prelude to disappointment, setbacks or worse. I would classify it as a primarily negative feeling, as it explicitly makes clear that things aren't right or fine, with one banking on a chance that things will somehow turn out okay.

Hope and happiness are also mutually exclusive as a consequence. If one feels hope, one is not and cannot feel happiness, at least not in any sense that conveys permanence and doesn't feel like daydreaming. Happiness implies permanence, stability and a sense of being at peace. Hope implies uncertainty, nervousness and the possibility of accepting bad news, an upheaval in one's living situation, or worse.


I find myself pondering these thoughts as I have somehow found myself back in the medical system after previously having settled on leaving the diagnosing of my intersex condition's characteristics as an unfinished project. Whether or not my current symptoms have anything to do with said condition I do not know. That's rather the point of this upcoming exercise, after all.

At my current GP's office it has quickly become clear that these symptoms of weight gain, a distended abdomen with apparent fluid inside it, along with bowel obstruction and persistent pain and discomfort in the perineum require a quick and thorough diagnosis. Which is why I have been referred to a larger hospital that has the resources and capability to handle such a case. Next week is the first appointment and the presumably first series of tests.

It's hard for me to pin down what my thoughts on this all are. On one hand I'm relieved of course that something is happening, and what's happening inside my abdomen will be diagnosed. On the other hand I'm both struggling with my too many memories of medical systems over the years, as well as a range of emotions including uncertainty and hints of fear. One never knows what will be found, after all.


What's different this time around is that I'm not at the hospital to have an intersex condition diagnosed, but for worrying medical symptoms which could have any number of underlying causes. It's in one way reassuring, because it means that it is not connected to those years of unpleasant medical experiences, yet it is very much the opposite of reassuring in the sense that something is decidedly wrong with my body, just that it hasn't been determined yet what is wrong and how to fix it.

Thus hope remains.

Depending how things go these coming weeks, it could all turn out fine, in which case I'd feel a lot happier. This is what I hope for, obviously. But hope doesn't come with guarantees. Reality is not concerned with what my wishes, hopes or dreams are. I only get to accept whatever comes my way. Whatever that may be. After over a decade of 'just taking it', it's not something that comes easily to me any more.


Between the relief of my body finally making its way through the final stages of puberty, and these worrying symptoms, I'm not sure what to think or feel. Is there a correlation? Is it a sign of something positive that just needs some surgical tweaking? One's thoughts just keep spinning in a circle. Hoping. Feeling uncertain. Trying to ignore it.

All I can do is hope and wait until next week's appointment. Meanwhile continue as normal. In so far as possible.


Admittedly it would be pretty cool if part of these symptoms are me growing that mature uterus and ovaries. First case in the medical literature, for sure.


Maya

Some medical progress

Last Friday's GP appointment was both a big emotional step - once more stepping into the medical system - and surprisingly productive. The doctor with whom I had the appointment was friendly, open and was able to tell me a great deal more about what exactly is happening inside my abdomen.

The main cause of the extreme abdominal distension turned out to be not fluid, but gas that had gathered in the intestines. My previous GP had previously also noted that my intestines had sounded unusual, but on Friday the GP noted that the normal happy gurgling that intestines do was practically absent. This is indicative of bowel obstruction [1].


A possible cause of this bowel obstruction, the still present ascites and the other assortments of abdominal and perineal pains would be a combination of endometriosis and the still closed-off vagina which keeps menstrual fluids trapped inside the abdomen.

At this point I have to get the MRI scans and reports that are in my possession to the GP's office, after which the GP will contact me about the next steps, with ideally the fixing of these abdominal troubles and the reconstructive surgery for the vagina, all of which should help with ending the medical issues which have troubled me since I was eleven years old.


Thanks to this new knowledge I now know to drink a lot of peppermint tea and apply heat to the abdomen to control the worst of the abdominal issues. This should help me with waiting for these next steps and hopefully whatever comes next. Feeling optimistic about my chances here seems still very early day, but who knows, maybe things could work out after all?


Maya



[1] https://www.everydayhealth.com/digestive-health/diagnosing-and-treating-bowel-obstruction.aspx

Why transhumanism is wrong and humans are terrible at being human

The essence of life and the human condition have been two things which have been on my mind since a young age. Not merely that of any meaning which one could ascribe to existence itself, or the state of being alive. No, the biggest question to me has always been what it means to be human. Over the years it's become painfully obvious to me that people conflate the fact of possessing a human (biological) body with actually being human. While the latter requires the former, the former does not imply the latter.

To be human is to have an awareness of one's feelings and emotions, along with the perception and empathy with other people's feelings. It means a purity of mind, of a desire to move away from the harshness of the natural world in which our species evolved, towards a world in which joy and happiness are paramount and eternal. Even if it is not achievable in our lifetime, we will nevertheless persevere, because that's what it means to be human.

The premise behind transhumanism is that we humans as a species are fundamentally limited by our bodies and minds, and that only by somehow transcending these limitations, we can become something more, something better. This dogmatic view ignores the fundamental truth that for thousands of years now there have been human beings around who have excelled or excel at being human. Because they have found and embraced their humanity. We don't need to change, we merely need to discover what we already have right now.


Similarly, humanity as a whole is confused, struggling with itself as it cannot seem to find its humanity. Even though society as a whole is gradually moving closer to this ideal humanistic world, it's not hard to find examples of those who make this transition harder than it should be. The most egregious example of this being the wanton cruelty inflicted upon others, especially the cruelty inflicted in the name of human-made rules, such as austerity programs, religions and other dogmatic systems.

To be human is to want more goodness and fewer worries for everyone. That's why we humans invented healthcare, discovered vaccines and antibiotics, as well as ways to repair a body damaged by disease or injury. Because fundamentally a human being does not believe in suffering. Not that of themselves, nor that of others.


Maybe I am wrong about every human having this capability to feel and empathise. Maybe it is indeed merely a fluke in a vanishingly small percentage of humanity which allows these individuals to only selflessly desire change for the good of humankind. Yet I do not see how changing our bodies or even achieving immortality of our bodies would make us more human. That's where I see that transhumanism is completely missing the point.

What we need to understand better is how humanism exists within a person. Whether it's indeed this fluke, in which case humanity as a whole would never achieve the level of understanding and empathy that is required for the humanist dream. Meanwhile, we will continue to take away worries for many, even if it's the unintended fallout from actions by the selfish and wealthy. Healthcare will improve, diseases will fade, life-threatening diseases and injuries will become routine operations. Death becoming a thing of the past.

But will it be part of the humanist dream, of humanity collectively realising its humanity and finding enlightenment that way? Or will it be the dystopian nightmare continuing well into this future, with the vanishingly small minority of the haves ruling over the have-nots, showing that humanity has not progressed a millimeter since the heydays of the Industrial Revolution or long before that?


I will keep the humanist's dream alive, even if it's just inside my heart. I hope many more people will do the same.


Maya

Moments when one truly is alive

Perhaps the most ironic thing about feeling alive is that it's something of which is only truly aware when the numbness of merely existing subsides. When one's thoughts during the day consist mostly out of reminders of one's duty and unpleasant recollections of previous failures, the world around you will keep turning a shade more grey and dull every moment. When one feels haunted by one's past, more rocks keep getting added to this weight that is slowly crushing one's soul and spirit.

To then be reminded of what it is like to feel alive is both a wondrously amazing and yet exceedingly excruciating experience. While feeling the lightness, colours and happiness flood one's system, it is impossible to not start crying. To release the pain, to celebrate the feeling of being alive and to embrace the warmth of hope and faith. That there is more to this world than duty and repressing past failures and traumas. That life can be a world filled with merry laughter and warmth.


Remembering those moments when one is only distantly aware of the fact that one's body is really, that this world in which this body exists and moves around in is real. What's real, after all?

Haunted by the pain of the past, of being lied to and deceived. One remembers being a boy, only one wasn't a boy. That was all a lie. One remembers being told things by doctors. By psychologists. By random people. One's mind briefly revisits childhood traumas. One tries to remember that although all of it was real once, it is now in the past. It all blends together into this frantic and unrelenting assault on one's sanity. Past. Present. Future. Which way is which again?


Some rare moments I can feel my spirit lifted up and the bleakness of merely existing lifted through unexpected means. Such as through a well-written love story, where the characters truly feel like they could exist and their struggles and relationship feels genuine. Or a bitter-sweet film, where self-sacrifice somehow offers hope to many others. Moments when one can feel the raw emotions welling up inside of one's chest, with nothing in between to deaden or hide it. Suddenly everything all seems so clear and the world so full of life.

It makes one feel that life is indeed worth living. Not out of duty or obligation, but because one is filled with the passion of life, and one is a human being who can experience all of those aspects of life, while sharing those experiences with others.


It's such a difference from living with the bleakness of merely existing and false hope. When the euphoria wears off again, it's all too easy to slip back into the shadows. Feel the warm glow of loving and being loved back slowly cool and fade until it feels fake and forced. Accept that it was all just a play of one's emotions, unrelated to reason and one's humanity. Or was it?

Maybe it are those moments when we truly allow our humanity to shine through, when we are no longer bound by the shackles our minds have created over the years. Accepting this would however highlight the tragedy of most 'social gatherings', which appear to be driven primarily out of duty and obligation, not because it is truly because we want it, or because it makes us feel alive.

Can you feel the pain inside? Can you feel the weight crushing your spirit, even as you lie to yourself? Again?

Are you happy? Do you feel alive? Do you want to cry in rage and pain?

Do you feel like sobbing uncontrollably in joy? Do you feel your heart overflowing with love?

Do you feel human?

Do you exist?


Are you alive?


Maya

Happy human humanism

There's always been a significant amount of chatter and debate on the nature of humankind, and the state as well as the direction of society. Whether we talk about the glory days of the Akkadian Empire, the Babylonian era that followed it, the pip-squeak nations and empires of the Ancient Greek and Romans, or the fresh-faced societies that appeared after medieval times in Europe, many a philosopher, politician and common folk have seen fit to comment on those points.

A big constant in those many thousands of years has been the struggle between essentially the supernatural and rational schools of thoughts. One advocating humankind and this Earth as some kind of set piece in a game between supernatural beings that far exceed our capability of reason and power. The latter advocating humankind as individuals in a world that can only be understood if regarded and interpreted in a rational, logical fashion. The former school of thought promotes religion and so-called spiritualism. The latter is commonly referred to as humanism.


When it comes to my own views, it has likely helped that I grew up in an environment where religion was practically absent, and critical thought encouraged. Unshackled by views forced onto me while still developing my thinking skills, I have always found the concept of humankind being a set piece somewhat ridiculous. It was quite obvious to me that everything that I could see around me and see on television was humans doing things to other human beings. Whether they were nice or not so nice things.

The main issue I see with the non-rational school of thought when it comes to humankind's position in this world is that there is no evidence to support it. Though many are adamant that there's 'something more' and that 'some things cannot be explained', scientific progress over the past centuries has shown that the only place where this way of thinking truly flourishes is within the gaps of our knowledge and understanding. Religion and spiritualism are therefore symptoms of ignorance where our brain tries to fill in the gaps, finding patterns and understanding where there is none.


Realistically, I have always been a humanist, in the sense that I acknowledge that there are no higher powers other than us humans, with societies shaped by our intellectual capabilities and our other defining features. There are no gods or mysterious forces to take into account. No gods to communicate with or take orders from. Our lives are not determined by supernatural beings, but our own to live and decide about. Mostly, that is.

While in essence we can decide about our own fate and lives, sadly too many in society are born, grow up and will die in a society that is in every way as restrictive as the gods of religious texts could impose on their followers. The cruelty of religious and other dogma, that of induced economical scarcity of resources, the denying of education, healthcare, affordable housing and a happy existence based on one's social status, etc. All of those things are inflicted by human beings upon other human beings.

Nobody told them to do those things. Much like with the horrors inflicted during war time, the horrors we inflict upon others during peace time happen because at some point societies and groups of people become more than just individuals, and irrational rules and laws take on their own life, perpetuated in a system that's both formed out of individual human beings, and which strips those same individuals from their ability to self-determinism, freedom and all too often happiness.


The injustices in modern society are simply too many. Yet we humans keep finding ways to get around fixing them. Whether it's tradition, pure inertia or simply a sense of helplessness. We can see a family become homeless through no fault of their own and struggle for survival on the streets. We can walk past a beggar without a shred of guilt. We watch armed conflicts on the news with emotional detachment, even as pictures of dead and starving civilians pass by. Because those things simply happen, and we as an individual are powerless to do anything about it.

In a sense things like nationalism, greed, egoism, cognitive bias and so on are at the core of society's problems. They are problems because they are not rational and therefore unhelpful or even outright harmful. They impede progress, are the very reason behind conflict and the rejection of new ideas.


If I hold a belief it is that I believe that although humans are the very cause of most human suffering, those same humans also have the capability to prevent and end this suffering. By making a fairer society that's based on reason and intellectualism, one could create a world in which it truly does not matter what kind of environment one is born into. Instead of a dystopian society where your social station and success in life depends on your birth and matching the right requirements to qualify for preferential treatment, we could have a society in which needless suffering is eradicated.

It could be a society where any problem by an individual is seen as a problem for the entire society, with everyone pitching in to their abilities to resolve the problem. A society which works towards a common goal of making life better for everyone, instead of giving you a 'tough cookies' if your ability to self-exploit yourself for progressing in society isn't quite strong enough.


Here I think that a society as portrayed in the original Star Trek series (especially The Next Generation) hits many of the right notes, where people live to improve themselves, not because they must, but because they want to. They aren't being forced to exploit themselves through working menial and unwanted jobs, but they are motivated to seek the parts of themselves which they'd like to improve, regardless of whether it's in social studies, art, medicine, or some branch of science.

I think the most wonderful thing about that vision is that it'd finally end the role of our animal past, putting behaviour and simple hormonal needs behind us and instead finally embracing our humanity.


Maya

Identity unknown

Everything changes. I feel myself dragged along with the changes.

A home. Work. Fading stress.

New questions. Restless feelings and emotions.


Every day trying to convince myself to do the work that needs doing, yet feeling ever more unsettled by feelings of hopelessness and despair.

What's the meaning of the work I do? Of the projects I do in my spare time? Though it feels okay while I can push myself into doing some writing and programming, it's hard to see it all go anywhere. To see a future.

I cannot even see myself any more. Or maybe I never really did. This body of mine sometimes feels like that of a stranger. Other times I can just feel helpless rage and incredible sadness when I consider this body. When I consider being intersex and the many years of doctors and psychologists forcing the identity of a transsexual male on me instead of listening to me and performing medical tests, I just want to scream and cry.

The traumas and confusion of the past decades blur together even as I can still see the good memories during those years through my tears.


Every day I can feel that something isn't right inside my body as it goes through its monthly cycle. The constant distension that keeps worsening along with weight gain. The pain and discomfort in the lower abdomen and perineum that only subsides briefly after each cycle.

I should go to a doctor with it. Just like I have been trying for the past years. Last year started off with me getting exploratory surgery to investigate these pains, but like with every examination attempt but the proper surgery in 2011, nothing ever results from it. I cannot motivate myself any more to consider going to a doctor at this point, as it'd only add to the pain and trauma.

I have had a few people contact me who told me that they're intersex. They invariably ask for advice and help. Yet what can I offer there? Just tales of trauma and disappointment. Of decades wasted on ignorant, arrogant doctors and kin, and a lifetime of regrets for having wasted so many years on what turned out to be fruitless? I failed to find help. I can do nothing more about this intersex thing except hope that it doesn't cause real medical problems beyond chronic pain at some point.

Life would have been so much better if I wasn't born intersex. If intersex didn't exist. If it all just went up and vanished. Just like all of this other gender and sexuality and related nonsense. All it means to me is pain and suffering. I hate all of it. I wish I could just rip it out of my body. Become just a human being and leave the suffering behind that come with those disgusting things.


In some parallel universe I guess there was a me who did write that autobiography, didn't waste years on the useless medical system and who is doing pretty darn well. As for the me in this universe, I guess that person will be struggling month after month to keep up the energy to make enough to pay the rent and food, while still dreaming of a future in which everything will be better, without struggling and worries about health and such.

It's nice to be able to lie to oneself to not lose all hope.


Maya

Vlog: Finding my self again

Where there should be happiness, there is just exhaustion

A new home has been secured, the necessary forms have been filled out and submitted, and financial obligations have been handled. Next week should see me moving into a new place. It's big and spacious, with a large conservatory, multiple terraces and a garden. It's located in a quiet area, with a nearly completely unobstructed view from the living room windows across the fields.

I notice that I do find comfort in the thought that I'll soon be living in this new place. Yet at the same time I find it hard to commit to any thought like that until it's become reality. And even then there's still this massive backlog of... things and feelings of the past years that have to be processed. Not just from when I first moved to Germany, but also so many years of living in the Netherlands, but not really living.

Earlier today my mom sent me more pictures of my youth she had found and wanted to show me. Pictures of me with my brothers on the farm, working on our projects in the mud, amongst the fields and wide open spaces. Looking at a picture like that brings memories flooding back and makes me realise just how much I miss all of that. The village where we grew up, our neighbours and friends, the school and everything else.

It made me realise strongly just how much I am not a city person. That's why this new place that I'll be moving into is the right choice, I think. Away from the city, back into a more rural environment, with more of the space and nature with which I grew up. It should provide a healthy environment for me to do all of this catching up, as well as to finally finish writing that first part of my autobiography.


Rationally I'm all onboard with this, and I can see myself plotting a course through all of this, finally leaving the misery of the past years behind me. Yet emotionally it will all take much longer. There's only so much one can take before burning through one's emotional reserves. After the brutality of the now finished legal eviction battle, it's clear that there were no victors there, with both sides incurring massive financial losses. Maybe if I had switched to that better lawyer sooner I'd have come out better, but that's all too late now.

It's also hard not to feel largely alone, either. Recent events have shown me that sadly the same kind of bullies who have harassed and terrorised me before will likely always keep popping up. The type who'll try to find whatever weakness they can find in you and exploit it for their own sick games. Like the bullies who'd harass me in 2011, both before and after my failed suicide attempt. It's often hard to tell whether they have a real goal, other than to live off the misery of others.

I'm at least grateful that such... people do not really get to me any more. They'll try to spread rumours and try to character assassinate you, but the people who really know you, and who aren't afraid of actually talking to you and ask questions will no fall for such tricks. It's just a matter of finding those decent human beings with whom it's actually a pleasure to interact.


At this point my faith in humans in general has quite obviously been diminished significantly, with me being hardly any further as far as my intersex condition and its treatment goes than when I moved to Germany in late 2013. It saddens me to think that perhaps I'll never know the answer to any of my questions, receive medical help and live out my life just as invisible as an intersex person as I do today.

My sincere hope that this raw, bleeding wound inside my very psyche can heal over time, with everything else that causes me grief resolving itself as well. Because I don't want to be always occupied with myself. There are far more interesting things out there, after all, and so many people to meet and sights to behold.

And maybe, just maybe, in the near future I'll feel that spark of happiness again.


Maya

Torn between hate, love and hope

It's been a while now since the apartment eviction thing came to a crescendo and I found myself moving into a temporary apartment. Not finding a new home during those two months at this apartment, I then had to move my belongings into storage while becoming homeless myself.

I was fortunate enough to have friends help me out during these moves, and for a perfectly nice stranger to offer me a couch to sleep on in a comfortable room. Though the house/apartment search continues week after week with little result, at least I have a bit of respite in the sense of no set deadline when I have to leave an apartment, no legal troubles, and above all no worries about my belongings, even though they're essentially inaccessible.

The freelancer thing seems to be picking up now as well, with one active contract and a few upcoming ones that should secure me financially this year. This would be a very welcome improvement over being jobless and searching for a job as I did last year, as much fun as it was to travel around the world for free.

To have people help me out to ensure that I will not end up sleeping on the street, to help me out with moving multiple times and to assist me with the new home search. Those are things for which I am super-grateful and which makes me feel this weird sense that I can relax at least a little bit.

Slowing down and feeling stress levels reduce is a weird sensation after so many years of stress apparently only increasing. I'm sleeping better, and have recently begun to have processing dreams, as my mind tries to make sense of all that has happened to me over the past decades. It's a lot to dig through, that's for sure.


One big and unexpected mistake I made recently was to accept an invitation to talk at a local pride parade event. Supposedly I'd get to talk about intersex and related. I was however unprepared for what I encountered. First of all the people in this parade themselves. Such an obsession with sexuality that it pretty much blew out my PTSD and I found myself practically incapable of doing the speech.

Then as I stood on the podium I found myself facing a rowdy crowd, with seemingly little interest in listening. Struggling with a poorly configured sound setup, I did an abbreviated version of the speech and left as soon as I reasonably could. To say that I felt uncomfortable was an understatement.

As I was standing in the backstage area, I could hear the people who came after me make various statements about what we intersex people are, want and such. Like us wanting to become part of this 'third sex' thing. Hearing transsexual and such folk make such statements about us intersex people with whom they do not even bother talking, but only using us to further their own agenda and desires was pretty much the final drop.

For days after this event I found myself struggling to make sense of this experience. One thing which it definitely changed was that my discomfort and PTSD triggers related to transsexuality got blown up into full-blown hatred against and disgust with anything LGBT. I found myself forced to admit that LGBT folk truly live in a world divorced from the world intersex people find themselves in.

It's not that one wants to hate, as it's such an unpleasant feeling to experience. Yet it ignited the trauma and struggle to come to terms with me having been forced into this transsexuality thing on many occasions over the past years, as I have written about previously. To be confronted with transsexuality in any shape is so incredibly painful and agonising now as the pain of all those years now lies bare and exposed.

I hate transsexuality. I wish nothing more than for it and all transsexuals to vanish right now. Just so that I can stop feeling this pain. This trauma that those doctors and psychologists caused by lying to me and deceiving me. By stripping away my humanity and reducing me to this shell, without any ability to control my future or decide about my body. Just a nothing, with doctors and psychologists patiently waiting for me to crack, admit to being transsexual and suffer normalisation surgery.


I know the trauma will not go away that easily. I am not sure that I will ever be able to understand why those so-called professionals saw fit to do something so inhumane and cruel to me. Anyone could have seen that I'm intersex, if they had paid any attention.

Part of coming to terms with what has happened to me is by learning to understand the nature of transsexuality. To eliminate this lingering fear that I was wrong after all and they were right about me. Here the medical literature makes it obvious that transsexuality is the most common form of Body Identity Disorder (also known as Body Integrity Identity Disorder), whereby people seek to have healthy parts of their body (surgically) removed, to cope with psychological issues.

This is an important difference from intersex, as with the latter there is no such identity disorder present. Though doctors and psychologists tried their best to cause such feelings and make me want to hate the male genitals or such, I would still never voluntarily want to part with any bit of my body. Thus I have no body identity disorder, and thus I cannot be transsexual.


Yet it still hurts to deal with the topic. Though I know that those doctors and psychologists were completely wrong about my body, I very much doubt that I'll ever learn why they felt this need to torture me and cause such horrific traumas. Is it because the only appropriate way they know to deal with intersex people is to coax them into accepting normalisation surgery? I mean, who could be happy as a physically non-binary person?

It's against this background that I now try to rebuild my life. Even though I am now relearning that there's also a gentler, kinder side to life and people, giving both that knowledge and my past experiences a place inside of me is not going to be easy.

Despite things being easier now than they used to be, it's still going to take a lot more love and kindness to get me fully out of the woods, allowing me to finally put behind the endless nightmare that has been my life for far too long now.


Here's to that kindness and love.


Maya

The worst part of PTSD is not feeling anything any more

It almost doesn't seem fair that when you have PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), it set ups your brain to work against you. Apparently all due to self-protection mechanisms that got pushed too far. One of these involves the amygdala and other parts of the brain involved in dealing with stress and pain regulation. In PTSD sufferers the recollection of traumatic events (consciously or as part of a trigger event) leads to what is called stress-induced analgesia [1].

Essentially this deadens one's perception of pain along with other sensory input. Another effect of this is a lack of emotions. All one can still feel are the negative emotions along with fear and varying levels of apprehension. The result of this when one is exposed consistently and for extended periods to those triggers which cause stress-induced analgesia is often that one begins to harm oneself [2][3]. Usually this involves hurting oneself in a way which may or may not cause permanent damage. This has some overlap with Borderline Personality Disorder [4].

Suicide is generally not the goal PTSD sufferers in this situation are aiming for. As mentioned [3], it's often a form of coping mechanism for upsetting feelings and emotions. It also helps to reduce the feeling of being dissociated from one's body and the general feeling of numbness.



I guess it took me a long time to realise for myself that my level of emotions and feelings is not regular. I had noticed on many occasions even as a child that the only emotion which I could feel strongly was that of sadness. As a teenager I'd often try to provoke this feeling by watching sad movies and series as it'd allow me to feel something.

The other thing that would evoke very strong emotions in me was gestures of kindness. When for example in a documentary or movie it'd be described or shown how someone or multiple bystanders would selflessly dive into the fray in order to save one or more people. Or someone being taken into a person's home after losing everything, for no other reason than to help that person out.


Any other kind of emotion, though? It's weird how you don't really realise that you haven't really been capable of experiencing such emotions for many years because the last time you really felt them was when you were like five years old. I'm not sure that it's better or worse that I cannot recall feeling such memories the way I did as a young child. If I could remember, it might convince me that such feelings actually are real and that I can feel them again one day.

As things are, however, I'm in a horrible situation, where I cannot find that new home, where I had to give up on trying to find medical help for my intersex condition, where I'm in a strange country and where I am at severe risk of becoming homeless or worse.

If I had found that home. If I felt safe and secure. If I had no big worries about the future. If I felt that I didn't have to push myself beyond what I'm mentally and psychologically capable of every single day.

But as things stand I don't know what'll happen to me next week, let alone a month from now. This basically means that I'm almost constantly feeling this numbness and dissociation, of none of this being truly real and - worst of all - that nothing matters. The point where one can think about taking one's own life or dying in general and only feeling a slight sense of relief as it'd end the sensation of pain.


The frustrating thing there is that the solution to stabilise my current situation is so incredibly obvious: find that home, ensure that I have nothing immediate to worry about in terms of my living situation or finances for the immediate future. Yet when one has 'mental health issues', then the only 'solution' that's on offer is apparently to be stuffed full with drugs, whether SSRI anti-depressants or others, and kept in a barren room with staff constantly checking up on you to see whether you have managed to hurt or kill yourself yet.

Maybe there truly isn't a solution, no way out of this situation.

That'd be tragic.


Maya


[1] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3004970/
[2] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4155484/
[3] https://www.ptsd.va.gov/understand/related/self_harm.asp
[4] https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/borderline-personality-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20370237

On not having a place in this world

Imagine, you're standing on this hill, surrounded by trees which are filled with blossom, as Spring moves towards Summer. You can smell the wildflowers on the air as the sound of birds and other critters mixes with the gentle rustling of the tree leaves in the breeze. As you close your eyes and lift your face towards the sky you can feel the warm sunlight caressing your skin.

This is the moment when you realise that you're in a place where you're home. Where it's safe and everything is all right. Where in a moment you'll return to the house where you live alone or with others, but it's all because that's the way which works for everyone.


It was around the beginning of this century, probably around 2001 or thereabouts, that I last still felt somewhat like that. After that my parents began to grow cold towards each other and the atmosphere in the house changed. Not long after that my parents divorced and first together with my mother, then alone it was a continuous journey from one house and apartment to another, in search of a home.

At this point I'm staying in a temporary apartment, trying to figure out what to do next as the last weeks at this place come and go. My grand plans of moving to the Alsace region of France have run into the harsh reality of supply and demand. How will this continue? I do not know. I wish I knew.


Similarly, my struggle to get a job last year and early this year didn't result in anything. Supply and demand, I guess. In the end it's not about you as a human being after all. It's just capitalistic reality. Essentially it's about us being merely the cells in this organism called 'Society'.

For all my dreams and hopes I had as a child and beyond, the cruel reality is we humans have made for ourselves is that the value of a person - much like that of a cell in an organism - is determined by their contribution to the system. My situation isn't even the worst imaginable, and it pains me to imagine the situations others find themselves in. There's so much pain. So much unfairness and so much suffering that those affected try to ignore. Plastic smiles.

Are any of us truly happy by living in small, cramped, concrete or stone hovels, practically on top of each other? With small, grimy windows opening into an environment that is choking with the exhaust fumes from cars, trucks and buses, mixed with the acrid smells of cigarette smoke and stale beer.

Is this place where our children play on streets near traffic, breathing in polluted air and only ever seeing the blue skies when they look up at this small strip of sky between the towering buildings. Is this place 'home'?

This reality of 'making the best of things' isn't that different from that scene in George Orwell's famous novell 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' where this woman outside the main character's window is hanging up the laundry while singing one of those auto-generated tunes that play on the radio. Obviously poor, the woman finds a reason to sing even though she lives in a rundown building, in a state of abject poverty, just like practically everybody else.

Just like in that world which Orwell described back in 1948 in the midst of post-war reconstruction, there are the haves and have-nots. The reality is that the handful of people who have practically everything are perfectly happy with keeping things the way they are. They are doing fine, so why would they care? Why would they care about the rest of the population? Those just exist to do their duty. Like any good skin, liver or fat cell.


How many of us consider the impact that 'our' decisions have on the rest of our body? On the tissues that are suffering because we had to do that late-night party, that copious consumption of alcohol and the many cigarettes that got smoked. We do not pay them mind, because we expect them to bounce back. That's what they're there for, after all.

In that sense it's only natural for the rich and wealthy to not care about the have-nots, I guess.


Sometimes I think about what it would mean to me if suddenly I found myself among the rich and famous. It's something that could theoretically happen after all, depending on how well my upcoming autobiography (and the associated Patreon [1] ) do. Say, with the support of a legion of patrons I get my autobiography done and published, and it turns out to be an international best-seller.

Suddenly I find myself being flown around the world for talkshows in places I haven't been to yet, while the money comes pouring in. All of a sudden all of my worries about financial stability and a place to live evaporate. What would I do?

The answer to that is pretty much summed up by the first few paragraphs of this blog entry. I'd want nothing more than to have that happy home for myself, and everybody else. I'm beyond sick of this world in which human lives are essentially meaningless, merely feed for the machine, as relevant as a single skin cell that will reach the end of its lifespan and gets discarded.

I do not claim to know the answer to everything, but I do feel strongly that the world I want to see is one in which there can be room for actual happiness and self-exploration instead of this top-down enforcement of how we should be living our all too brief lives.

Because either life is precious, or it is not.


Maya



[1] https://www.patreon.com/MayaPosch

That uncertain future

So where I'm at now is that the old apartment has been handed back to the slumlord, with just the final bills and such to be settled. This means that other than some potential financial fallout the direct and immediate threat from that place should be over with.

That leaves me with the two other, more immediate issues. One is to get that financial stability, as I saw myself pushed into becoming freelancer after a year of unsuccessful job interviews. Not that being a freelancer is that horrible, mind you. It seems that at this point I'm mostly doing the writing of articles for websites such as Hackaday and soon Hackster.io, which provides me with some income.

In addition to this, there's also the pressing issue of finding a place to live. I still got about a month until I have to leave the current apartment where I'm temporarily staying. At this point I have abandoned the thought of renting a house in the Alsace region of France as the possibility of that working out was painted too optimistically. Now it's back to looking for apartments in that same region. Hopefully that will work out better.

What will be next for me? I'm not sure. I'll just have to keep trying and see what happens.


Maya

This year's keywords are: freelance, France, Patreon

Starting tomorrow, I'll start moving my belongings to a temporary apartment as the search for a house in the Alsace region in France continues, as I wrote about in my previous blog entry. Getting all of the logistics organised for this move is still an ongoing process, even as the process of packing up at the old apartment is winding down.

My hope is that by the next weekend, everything will be at the new place, so that during the last week of this month I can finally end another less fun chapter in my life. Hopefully I'll be finally free of the old apartment and its slumlord after five years of struggling to find a new place, dealing with an eviction despite no debts or other reasons, etc.

There's still a lot of work to be done to get me over to the new place, with any bit of help appreciated, but this should be the first big improvement in my life in a long, long time.


Also tomorrow I'll be looking at this house in the Alsace for which I have a chance of being allowed to rent it. If that works out, then in a matter of weeks I'll be moving again, hopefully for the final time for a long time.

With living in a small French village also comes having to get a car, meaning that I'm comparing various used cars at this point, with plug-in hybrids looking especially attractive due to the low running and maintenance costs. This means that for the coming time I'll be spending quite a bit of money to set myself up.

This month is also the first month that I'm officially a freelancer. I'm still trying to find my way, of course, but there are many options open to me. Hopefully by next month I'll have that stable income in addition to a nice, quiet working environment.

I have set up a Patreon account [1] for those who want to support my efforts with finally finishing my autobiography, as well as maybe supporting a career as a writer. Feel free to have a look there and maybe toss a few bucks per month my way if you feel so inclined :)

Another thing I have been meaning to set up for a few years now, but haven't found the time yet, is a YouTube channel for Nyantronics [2], with a focus on electronics, software and science. Both Nyantronics projects, but also for general education, tear downs and all of the usual things.

Feel free to support me on Patreon, or donate to me directly. Or help out with these two moves the coming weeks and I'll make sure that there's free pizza for everyone :)


Maya


[1] https://www.patreon.com/MayaPosch
[2] http://www.nyantronics.com

Trying to make the world a better place, even as it wants me dead

Over the past months, a big focus of me alongside working on my upcoming book [1][2] and of course trying to find a new full-time job, has been setting up a new website to host the range of projects that I have started last year. These include a variety of hardware projects, involving the design of PCBs in KiCad for things ranging from building monitoring and control to the controlling of LED-based room lighting, and writing the firmware to drive these boards.

The website, Nyantronics.com [3], also features the biggest project of all: Internet of Plants (soon to be renamed Greentropia). This project focuses on high-density indoor farming solutions, as a way to solve the issue of food production in today's world, and the massive pollution and habitat destructions that this causes.

By having all vegetables and fruit grown in environments that are isolated from the environment, and by having many floors of this, it solves not only the problem of habitat destruction, but also removes the need for pesticides and herbicides to be used. Further it reduces the need to transport food across the globe, as well as plastic packaging.

Our focus is on moving to hydroponics and fogponics, so as to remove the need for soil and to optimise plant growth. A big part of making indoor farming like this work is to make it as energy-efficient as possible. So far we have been researching various grow LED options and of course hydroponics, fogponics and related to reduce the amount of energy required to produce fruit and vegetables, as well as look at making staple foods such as rice and soy beans work in this setting.

Looking at comparable efforts, such as the big EDEN ISS [4] project, we can see the potential here, and slowly we're bringing others into the project as well. It's a multi-disciplinary project, bringing together botany, biology, electronics, physics, anthropology, software development, mechanical engineering and many more fields. This makes it into an incredibly challenging but also incredibly fun project.


And yet, when I woke up this morning, I felt horrible. All I could see was this young child inside of me with adults yelling at it and generally being complete and utter jerks. The latter being mostly the people who are trying to kick me out of the apartment where I'm currently staying, merely on account of disliking me. Add to this the pressure of still being unemployed and having nowhere to go if I want to keep my unemployment benefits and health insurance.

Some days I'm not sure how things got this way. When you always tried to do things properly and always be nice and friendly to people, it's the worst kind of feeling when you aren't merely met with indifference, but with outright hostility. To know that you're not even a stain in the eyes of some people, but something far less.

And there's always that young child in the dark room. Terrified of adults. Never daring to trust adults again after what those adults did to her 5-year old self. The me today who is trying to get past those experiences, but who just keeps being reminded that adults are never to be trusted, not ever again.


I'm still hoping that I won't get kicked out of the apartment next month now that a date to have it forcibly cleared has been set. It's going to cost me a lot more money on lawyers and related adult fun to try and avoid this.

I'm still hoping that I will get that new job, get to move to a new place and that just for once these horrible things stop happening to me. I'm still trying. Still hoping.

I finally want that five-year old me to feel safe for the very first time. To move on and focus on these projects that can transform the world and the future of humanity. Not keep being stuck dealing with the same horrible types of people and revisiting the same old traumas over and over again.

Instead I want that fascinating future, working on cool projects that enrich me and humanity as a whole. To get this world away from this eternal darkness that threatens to swallow everything because there are certain adults who insist on living at the cost of others.


Maya


[1] https://www.packtpub.com/application-development/hands-embedded-programming-c17
[2] https://amzn.to/2Vl79wP
[3] http://www.nyantronics.com/index.php
[4] https://eden-iss.net/

To let oneself be carried off by the current

Working long hours, rushing to make deadlines and still not feeling like one is getting anywhere. Going through job interview after job interview only to get rejected. Dealing with the crippling psychological impact of a looming eviction and the prospect of abandoning everything once more and resorting to the charity of others. That's my day to day life for months now.

Somewhere in the background is still the constant pains and discomfort of my body, even as it keeps going through physical changes, from the gradually vanishing scars and subtle changes to my face and skin in general, to the general development of female secondary characteristics. None of it explained, none of it making sense, no clue as to what will happen in the end. Is this just a normal puberty?

I can feel my sense of self, my ego, vanishing in the midst of this. My body is in flux, nothing around me in my environment is fixed or certain. I know what person I think I am, and what I want my future to look like, but all paths have been closed off, with no way forward. There's just waiting.

It feels so pointless to keep struggling, to wish for a better future. Even after so many years I have come little closer to my goals, or found a home.


Two weeks ago I found myself taken to the local psychiatric clinic by the police because my social worker was worried about me after a few remarks in an email I sent to her. I ended up staying two nights there, because they were afraid that I might hurt myself, or worse. I was let out during the day of the second day there, however, with the promise to return by dinner time. I was let out again on the third day, with the recommendation to visit a psychiatrist at their walk-in clinic.

Honestly, I do not want to hurt myself, or even end my own life, but this sense of pointlessness and futility is making me feel ever more disjointed from this body and my perception of reality. Thus I feel torn between the fun and interesting things in my life, the future I want to work towards to, and the strong desire to just give up and let all of those who wish me to vanish get their desire.

This body feels like a hindrance. I don't want to have to think about where to house it, how to feed and clothe it. How to deal with its changes and pains. Its mortality. I cannot comprehend human society. It all feels so wrong and distant, like a tune that's ever so slightly off-key.


There's still my third book to finish, a job to find, a home to find and move to. An eviction to avoid and chronic stress, PTSD and worrying abdominal pains to ignore. The question of whether this is possible at all doesn't apply, nor whether I still have the energy to continue. There's no choice, no freedom, no pity or empathy. Just the choice between continuing this struggle and giving up.


I'm still struggling and hoping, but it's so hard.


Maya

To struggle for survival

What I want my life to look like in the short to medium term: to live somewhere quiet, work a day job to make money, write books and work on my software and hardware projects in my spare time. Finally get those robotics, AI, asynchronous CPU architecture and similar projects into a usable state. Have my autobiography published and hopefully change forever life for all intersex people around the world for the better.

Instead, where I am now: being thrown out of my current apartment despite having paid all my bills and not caused trouble. Not having a job despite many months of applying and flying all over the world for on-site interviews. Struggling to finish my current reference book within the deadlines as the full-time job search and dealing with depression and bouts of suicidal thoughts make it almost impossible to be productive.

Each day my situation feels more hopeless. The hope for an easy resolution to my situation has died months ago. With each new rejection after a job application or simply a lack of response it becomes ever more clear that my existence is optional and in no way required or essential.

But to survive is not about feeling comfortable. It's about still dragging yourself forward through the mud and freezing rain even after you have broken both legs, had an arm crushed, running a fever and almost delirious from the pain. All in the hope that things will get better if you keep going. For how long? Until you collapse and die.


While trying to find a job and with it the relocation help I seek, I am ignoring the worsening physical pains and warning signals by my body. At this point endometriosis seems almost certain, with peritonitis (inflammation of the lining of the abdominal wall) providing a clear explanation for the generalised abdominal pain and extreme abdominal swelling at the end of each monthly cycle. This in addition to the extreme and localised pain in the perineum around the same time, which would also be triggered by the blood and/or other fluids that get released.

Of course I have tried to find help for this during the past years, but without luck. And now the symptoms just keep getting worse, possibly also due to the stress that I'm under as a result of my current situation.


What will happen next? I do not know. I may get lucky and my wish for a more quiet, predictable life may come true next week after yet another on-site job interview. Or not, and I can keep struggling to somehow find that way out of this Hell. Yet I am terrified of this dark side, this voice that keeps pushing me to admit defeat, to give up and terminate this impossible existence.

Am I meant to exist? Hermaphroditic intersex people like myself are very rare, because most times embryos merge like that, a miscarriage results.

I don't even know what I am. Who I am. I'm still in the process of trying to make sense of this body of mine. Of what has happened so far. To somehow deal with the trauma of the past years, even as I try to move forward.


What's fair?

This is survival. There's nothing fair about surviving. It's when everything has gone wrong to the point where one's existence has practically been lost already.

I want to survive this. I want to move on, to move forward, but the deck is stacked against me. With the incredible physical and psychological pain combined, this makes it seem all too tempting to give up. That's my fear.

Like seven years ago, when I also found myself in a similar situation, I didn't know what to do and everything was hurting. That was when I remembered the two boxes of sleeping tablets which I had in my room. They were the only real way forward which I could see. I was so happy that I had found a solution. Something which I could do, instead of just letting things happen to me.

I slept really well after I realised this. The next morning I got up all cheerful and feeling extremely calm and at peace with everything. The pain and agony that I had been feeling inside for what seemed like years had all vanished. There was no hesitation as I took all of the tablets out of their packaging and swallowed all of them with some water.


I still feel that things should have ended there. Me having been born still feels like a mistake. Me not dying seven years ago feels like a mistake.


Yet I still want to live. I just want... no, what I need to live is for all of this pain to be taken away by others. The pain of being unwanted and unneeded, of being the cause of problems and just a collection of unfulfilled promises and regrets. For people to trust me, instead of seeking to betray and discard me. To accept that I have a traumatic past, but that things will be fine once I'm in safety.

If not, then there is no stack of sleeping tablets available to me. Yet the temptation remains. I don't know what may happen if this dark, traumatised part takes me over again. The point where I will have lost the fight to exist in society, in this life and also the fight against the traumas from my past.


Even as I prepare for yet another attempt next week to make this future I want work out, I notice how much my attitude has shifted over the past months. From feeling hopeful and quite certain that things will work out, to pessimistic and downcast in addition to feeling exhausted as I struggle to care about the fact that I am still alive. And still surviving.


Maya

Let's talk inclusivity in the tech industry

This year has been a weird one. After leaving my previous job at the end of last year I have undergone a number of medical procedures:

• 3rd MRI scan at the neurologist for the cyclic weakness and pain in my right leg and arm.
• appointments at the proctologist and gastroenterologist for the abdominal bloating and pains.
• cycle monitoring and laproscopy surgery at the gynaecologist to gather data on my intersex condition.

Even after nearly fourteen years, I still know very little about my body, and finding specialists who got a clue and/or show interest is so hard that I envy those who are merely seeking for needles in haystacks. Currently I'm suffering more and more frequently from nausea during each cycle, though the sciatica (pain and weakness in my right leg) seems to have mostly gone away, indicating that things are changing.

After my body suddenly started undergoing its first proper puberty in 2015, with a dramatic increase in female secondary characteristics, it's been a confusing and harrowing time for me. I do not understand what is happening with my body, and how far it will keep developing like this, or whether there'll be any consequences of such a delayed puberty.

I know that my natural female hormone levels are pretty low for a woman, but adding additional hormones result in the symptoms of estrogen overdosing, so this is apparently the level my body is now comfortable with. I have also noticed old scars changing, wrinkles fading and of course the fat distribution in my body shifting around again, as if the hormone therapy I used to be on did just about almost nothing. Nothing about this makes any sense, and there's nothing in the literature that may help me with this. My best and only help so far seems to be one of those cycle tracking apps, allowing me to at least gather some data on the symptoms while giving me at least some useful hints and tips.


Oh, did I mention that I'm looking for a new job?

It's been eight months now since I started my search for a new job, and collected a few dozen rejection notes in that time. I'm supposed to have a new job by next month according to the lease extension I got for my current apartment, or I'm looking for a new place to stay. Worst case I'd be forced to return to the Netherlands without a job and no place to stay. After the 11 years of horror that I went through there, that's the last thing I want or can deal with.

I'm frantically working to catch up on the deadlines for my upcoming book on embedded C++ development, which I started on earlier this year. Fortunately my second book on C++ multithreading that came out last year is selling well. Combining writing a book with the job hunt and dealing with my medical condition is hard.


So, inclusivity.

It's a big word, which has been thrown around a lot the past years. Basically it means that everybody gets an equal opportunity, regardless of their circumstances. Sounds great, doesn't it?

Naturally, no employer who has rejected an application of mine has said why they did so, or gave any specific reasons. How would one even know whether one got rejected due to one's medical condition, circumstances of birth, or having opted to pursue medical help over a career?

I could be totally wrong about this, but at the same time I cannot exclude the possibility that after doing my best for months now to get hired, and having literally flown around the world for a multitude of on-site interviews, that in the end the primary reason why I do not get hired is because I'm an intersex individual. Someone who is open about it online, even.

Since I have no guarantee that this is not the case, and my professional experience should at least give me a fair shot at a job, it's sadly becoming a question which I and others are beginning to ask more frequently now.

Am I not getting a job because I am open about being an intersex person? Is the very fact that I'm intersex a factor in getting rejected from job applications?


It could just be that I have wasted all those years on not pursuing a career which is coming back to haunt me now, since employers do not like gaps in one's education-to-jobs timeline, but 'maybe' and 'possibly' aren't of much comfort here. With zero feedback from any job interview as a rule, one is left grasping in the dark for clues.

I like to think - and others confirm this - that I'm a highly dedicated person with a keen interest in science and technology, who is friendly and helpful, and more than willing to learn new skills for a project or job, while always being ready for a challenge.


It's hard to not feel like this is where inclusivity in the tech industry falls flat. Someone like me is different, yes. I have taken a course through life unlike what most people will ever experience in their entire life. Yet this should make me a unique asset to a team. Not a liability. Yet that's what it feels like.

Like I'm back in primary school, getting bullied and excluded for being 'different'. Ditto for my later school experiences and so on. Ironically those experiences taught me the value of communicating with others, even if it had to be initiated with one's fists. Some of those bullies actually became my friends later on. Yet back then I didn't know I was intersex, nor did anyone else. Being gifted was already enough of a struggle to deal with.

I got through all of those years. I got through the past thirteen years mostly unscathed, even when it seemed as if my body, doctors, psychologists and the rest of the world were all against me. There was always someone there who offered me that one chance to move on, which I accepted even if it meant more big changes and massive effort on my side.


I just wish someone would give me that chance now.


Maya

Vlog: Flying and soaring, or...

• On getting evicted.
• Maybe a new job and moving.
• Working on my autobiography, part I.

Maya

Being evicted next month

Today I had my psychotherapist guide me through the findings of the court in the eviction case against me. The news is pretty bad. Not only did the landlord get the okay to evict me without any further pause after the appeal period ends early next month. I will also have to pay a considerable fine. The total amount that I may stand to pay including lawyer costs and such would be about 10,000 Euro.

Naturally I have made use of the appeal option, with my therapist writing a new report on my psychological state because the first one got rejected on account of being 'too old' and 'not reflective of my current state'. This letter makes it again very clear that an eviction at this point would likely lead to strong suicidal feelings and a likely new attempt.

As during the therapist appointment I suddenly... seized up and found myself convulsing on the floor on account of the flood of emotions, after first resisting the urge to claw open my own throat, I would agree with this assessment. I'm barely holding things together as is.

It seems that the court here has managed to not only ignore the available evidence, but has made no effort to consider my fragile psychological state, or my unique position as a minority (intersex). All of this over a lack of communication from the landlord's site that led to me continuing paying 10% less rent as agreed. All I got were bills with increasing fines, with my attempts to communicate going ignored.


As I mentioned in my previous post, I really hope that I can soon get that new job and move to the UK. With all of the negative things that are going on at this point I'm not sure how much longer I can keep things up. I'm longing so much for a normal life, working an interesting job, having a pleasant home and hanging out with friends. Also receiving psychotherapy to deal with my PTSD, this time without living in an environment which just worsens said PTSD.

Maybe coming to Germany was a mistake after all.


Maya